There is a certain age at which a child looks at you in all earnestness and delivers a long, pleased speech in all the true inflections of spoken English, but with not one recognizable syllable. There is no way you can tell the child that if language had been a melody, he had mastered it and done well, but that since it was in fact a sense, he had botched it utterly.

Pilgrim at Tinker Creek (ed. Hymns Ancient and Modern Ltd, 2011) - ISBN: 9781848250789